


Sunstruck:  Part II

by Mews1945



Category: Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-10
Updated: 2005-08-10
Packaged: 2017-10-08 03:21:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mews1945/pseuds/Mews1945
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A follow-up to Sunstruck, in which Frodo receives loving care from his friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunstruck:  Part II

The royal apartment was silent, shadows slowly fading as the sun's first light filtered through the translucent white draperies that covered the tall windows. Aragorn awoke to find himself holding a small, warm, breathing bundle of sleeping hobbit. A tumble of dark curls tickled his nose, a pair of bony knees poked his stomach, and a delicate little hand was curled round his thumb. He lay still to avoid disturbing Frodo, though he longed for a cup of tea and he had a rather urgent need to visit the privy. His wife lay facing him, but still sleeping, her face serene as a lily in the dim, white light.

'Surely,' he told himself. 'Frodo will awaken soon.' He sighed and shifted very carefully to ease the pressure on his lower abdomen. Frodo muttered a complaint and squirmed, his hand tightened its grip on Aragorn, his knees drew higher, and he kicked out.

Aragorn's breath escaped him in what was very nearly a squeak, and his whole body winced with the impact of one of those hard hobbit feet into his most sensitive parts. One more kick like that, he thought, and a visit to the privy would be unnecessary. Had anyone else rendered him such a blow, he would have responded with a blast of resentment, at the very least. But it was Frodo, and to even consider treating him with less than gentleness and consideration was impossible for Aragorn.

'Why, by all the Valar, did I offer to let him sleep here?' Aragorn wondered, although he knew very well why he had done so.

He had felt it best at the time, when Frodo was so ill from sun sickness. His pale skin and wide eyes had made him particularly appealing, like a lost child who had appeared on their doorstep in the rain. And the decision had proven to be a felicitous one for all of them. Frodo had been so happy to be with them, so comforted by Arwen's attentions, and so enthralled by the King's tales of his adventures as a Ranger, that Aragorn had been positively inspired. If the tales had been embellished a bit in the telling, well, who was to say that was a bad thing? They had made Frodo laugh and gasp and exclaim, while he clung to Arwen's hand, or nuzzled close to her side when she put her arms about him.

The three of them had spent several leisurely hours in conversation and storytelling, and Arwen had been persuaded to sing for them, a lovely melody that had made Frodo sigh and lean against Aragorn, listening with tears in his eyes. Dinner had been consumed from a tray, while they had continued to talk and laugh. Frodo had eaten only a little of the roasted chicken and herbed potatoes, but he had much enjoyed another dish of strawberry cream, along with a number of tiny tarts made with summer fruits in tender pastry crusts and a large goblet filled with chilled orange juice.

Finally, near midnight, Frodo had surrendered to weariness and had fallen asleep, curled up like a nesting rabbit kit. Aragorn and Arwen had settled him comfortably between them and joined him in slumber. Altogether a very pleasant and satisfying evening.

Frodo snuffled in his sleep, squirmed again, and Aragorn tensed in expectation of another kick. It did not come. Instead, the hobbit moved back slightly, opened his eyes, and looked, bewildered, at the King. A flush rose in his face as he realized where he was, and who was with him.

"Aragorn," he said. "Oh, I am sorry. I must have fallen asleep."

"That," Aragorn said. "Was the idea, Frodo. How are you this morning?"

Frodo tilted his head thoughtfully. "I feel better. Although my head aches and I feel somewhat dizzy, but I am sure that will fade very quickly when I get up and have my tea."

Arwen had awakened when they began to speak. She raised herself, leaning on her arm, and touched Frodo's forehead with her other hand. He blushed even more hotly, though he did not try to move away from her.

"You have a fever, Frodo," she said. "It is not uncommon with sun sickness to have fever for a day or so. You will need a little more rest, and medicines, and tending today, I think."

"Oh." Frodo looked up at her with his wide blue eyes, the very picture of hobbity innocence, his face rosy, his curls tousled, the nightshirt's ribbon ties loosened at the throat. "I am sure Sam will take care of me when I return to my room."

Arwen smiled and caressed his cheek. "No, my dear, I shall keep you with me here, where I can care for you myself."

Frodo looked surprised, but happy to comply, and settled down in the bed, closing his eyes as Arwen gently stroked his forehead and his temples with her cool fingers.

Aragorn was unsurprised that Arwen should wish to keep Frodo with her, to care for him herself. He knew that Arwen was fond of Frodo. Although she was the daughter of an Elf lord, and the wife of the King of Men, she was not proud or vain, but tender and loving to all she knew. He loved her more than ever, if that were possible, for her devotion to Frodo's well being.

"I will order breakfast delivered to us here," he said, sitting up and reaching for his dressing gown. "Before I must leave you and be about the business of the Kingdom."

He went to the door to speak to the attendants who waited outside, gave them instructions to have breakfast delivered to the royal bedchamber, then made a quick detour to the privy. Feeling much more comfortable, he returned to sit on the bedside, where he felt Frodo's forehead and discovered that Arwen was right. Frodo's skin was very warm, and still too dry, and he was trembling slightly.

"Do you feel cold, Frodo?" Aragorn asked.

"Perhaps just a bit." Frodo sighed again when Arwen drew him close to her own warmth and held him in her arms. Aragorn felt a faint twinge of envy, watching Arwen cradle the hobbit to her bosom, but he could not begrudge Frodo his place in her arms. Aragorn would have a lifetime to spend with Arwen. He could allow Frodo this little time to rest in the comfort she offered.

"That is normal with a fever," Aragorn told him. "We shall give you willow bark tea, and perhaps another bath."

Frodo shuddered. "Must you? My fever may fall with only the tea, mightn't it?"

"Perhaps. We shall see. I will prepare the tea for you while we await our breakfast."

He crossed to the cabinet in the corner where were stored his herbs and medicines and implements that he used in healing. The willowbark tea was in a small, tightly-stoppered jar, and he added two spoonfuls of the shredded bark to a thick pottery mug and fetched the teakettle from the hob in the bathing chamber's fireplace. It had been filled and left to heat the night before, and the water was steaming as he poured it into the mug and left it sitting on the apothecary table to steep.

Arwen had sat up, a ravishing image in her white silk gown, her hair black and gleaming like satin, her skin softly flushed from sleep. She had laid Frodo down with his head on her lap, and she was stroking his hair while he lay motionless, his eyes shut, a small smile curving his lips.

Aragorn seated himself in his own large armchair, regarding them with his hands clasped and his head tilted, feeling such tenderness well up in his heart that he must blink away a bit of moisture from his eyes. His wife returned his gaze, and smiled upon him with so much love and warmth that he once more realized himself to be the most fortunate of Men.

When the bitter tea was ready, he rose and brought it to Frodo, who drank it without protest, though his face crinkled into a grimace at the taste. Aragorn gave him a cup of water to wash away the worst of the bitterness.

The servants arrived with breakfast on large trays which they brought in and set on the dining table beneath the eastern windows. Even though the dishes were covered, savory aromas curled in the air, and Frodo's nose twitched before he opened his eyes, raised his head from Arwen's lap, and looked at the laden table in amazement.

"Are you hungry, Frodo?" Aragorn asked. He knew that a hobbit with no appetite was a very sick hobbit indeed, although this particular hobbit often had little appetite to begin with. Frodo nodded, tried to sit up, and Arwen assisted him. She held him up with one arm while she arranged extra pillows at his back, then allowed him to lean against the snowy white mound.

"What will you have, Frodo?" Aragorn gestured for the maid to uncover some of the dishes, and surveyed the contents with a critical eye. "We have ham and bacon and sausages, scrambled eggs, broiled tomatoes, creamed mushrooms, sugared berries, orange juice and tea, cinnamon scones, buttered toast, and biscuits flavored with anise. And a very special treat for you."

Frodo's eyes had widened even more as Aragorn named each dish. He smiled, displaying the little gap between his teeth and the dimple that graced his cheek. "A treat? For me? What is it?"

"Something so rare that I doubt you have tasted it before." Aragorn beckoned to the maid and handed her something. "Show that to the Ringbearer," he told her.

She brought the small white dish to the bedside so that Frodo could see the long, dark brown pod that rested on it. It was, Aragorn knew, a disappointment to the hobbit, though Frodo smiled again, bravely.

"Is it a bean?" he asked.

"Indeed. A very special kind of bean." Aragorn beckoned the girl to him again, and took the pod from her, setting it down on the table. He lifted the cover of a small pitcher and took a deep breath of the fragrant steam that rose from it. The milk which it contained had been heated, along with the tiny dark seeds that had been scraped from the interior of one of the pods, beaten to a froth with sugar and a dusting of nutmeg, then strained and beaten again, so that it foamed as he poured it into a cup. He thanked the maid, and carried the cup to Frodo himself.

He sat on the bedside and offered the cup. Frodo looked dubiously at it, sniffed, his nose crinkling slightly. He raised his eyes to Aragorn's face.

"What is it?"

"It is called vanilla," Aragorn replied. "It is grown in Harad, and has been unobtainable for a very long time in the northern lands, but now it will be available to all, since there will be peace between our two lands. We have only a small amount, brought as a gift by the Haradrim delegation, but I wanted to share with you what we have."

Frodo nodded uncertainly. He sniffed the scent of the milky drink again, then, closing his eyes as though resigning himself to his fate, he took a sip when Aragorn tilted the cup to his lips.

His eyes opened wide. He smiled delightedly. "Ah. So good."

Aragorn nodded, allowing Frodo to take the cup into his own small hands, sure that Arwen would be quick to assist him should he falter. Frodo drank more of the sweet drink with its flavorings of vanilla and nutmeg and sighed with pleasure.

"This is lovely." He beamed at Aragorn. "Will we have this in the Shire?"

"Assuredly," Aragorn answered. "I shall see to that." He smiled at Frodo's pleasure in the treat. "Now, what more would you like to have? Eggs? Sausages?'

Frodo sipped his drink, his eyes fixed on the food now. "Perhaps a sausage and some mushrooms and a bit of egg. And a corner of buttered toast," he said.

The maid prepared the plate for him, and carried it to the bed, where Arwen took it and held it. Frodo was still clutching his drink and seemed unwilling to release it. Arwen said, "Shall I feed you, my dear?"

He blushed again. "If you would, my Lady."

So she fed him the egg and the mushrooms in a delicate cream sauce flavored with white wine, the crisp golden toast with its creamy butter melting into the surface, the spicy little sausage flavored with sage and pepper and broiled to a crisp turn. Frodo nestled against her side as trustingly as he would have to Aragorn himself, and sipped the vanilla drink between bites.

Aragorn took the plate the maid served for him and returned to his own place on the other side of the bed, sitting up, cross-legged beside Frodo, who, with the air of one making a great sacrifice, offered him a sip of his drink.

Aragorn, knowing the hobbit greatly desired to return the kindnesses he had been shown, accepted the drink, and took a very small sip, then returned the cup to Frodo with a smile.

"Very good," he said. "I believe there is enough for another cup, Frodo, if you desire it."

"I thought that you and Queen Arwen would want to have some." Frodo eyed the pitcher with longing.

"I can have it whenever I like," Aragorn assured him.

"And so can I," Arwen added, smiling at Frodo. "This is for you, dear one. Would you like another cup?"

"If you please." Frodo watched the maid come and refill his cup, smiling with anticipation, and sipped the drink happily. He sighed, settling into his pillows. "My headache is better," he said. "And I do not feel dizzy at all now. Perhaps I am getting well."

"Yes, I think so," Aragorn agreed. "You are looking much more yourself now."

"Oh. Well, then, perhaps I really should go to my own room. I have caused you enough inconvenience." Frodo's voice was small.

"No, Frodo. Not today," Arwen said softly. "I shall be much more at ease if you allow me to care for you until we are quite certain that you are indeed recovered."

Frodo looked up at her, his smile returning. "Oh, of course. If it will ease your mind, my Lady, I shall be happy to stay with you today." He settled himself contentedly down by her side to finish drinking his vanilla milk.

Aragorn, the King of Men, very reluctantly dressed and put on his arms and his crown, then went off to rule his kingdom, and told himself that, for this day at least, Frodo Baggins had most assuredly gotten the better part to play.

END


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